


Spirited Away

by devilsduplicity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-29
Updated: 2010-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsduplicity/pseuds/devilsduplicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last we saw of Castiel, he had spirited himself away with a sigil carved into his chest. It's up to Crowley to bring him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spirited Away

Spirited Away

**Who:** Crowley and Castiel  
 **What:** **_SPOILERS. HIGHLIGHT TO READ:_** The last we saw of Castiel, he had spirited himself away with a sigil carved into his chest. It's up to Crowley to bring him back.  
 **When:** Just after S05E20.  
 **Word Count:** 985  
 **Warnings:** Spoilers for "Point Of No Return", S05E18, and slight spoilers for "The Devil You Know", S05E20.

Spirited Away

 

 

"It really has been such a terrible inconvenience for me to find you."

Castiel knelt on the ground, his knees digging into dirt, his hands gripping fistfuls of grass and weeds. The bodies of his fallen brethren were scattered around him, each kill fresh, still bleeding, still warm, though their grace had been burned from their vessels by the force of the archangel sword he carried.

The archangel sword he had dropped sometime while in the throes of battle.

The archangel sword that a demon was currently twirling between his fingers.

Black dress shoes clopped in front of his face, just within range. Castiel had the urge to reach out and wrap his fingers around the other's ankle, to pull the filthy little abomination down to his level.

"I tell you," the demon continued, "I've had such an awful day. Atrocious. This _weather_ is doing nothing for me. All heat and humidity. How _ever_ do you stand it?"

Castiel couldn't move. The effort of kneeling, of prostrating himself on his hands and knees instead of sprawling himself out on the ground, was already taking its toll on his worn and tired body. His breathing was ragged, shaky, wrenched from between his lips with a forceful shudder. Shaky sighs heralded each intake, and even on the ground, beaten, bruised, bloodied, his shirt torn in half, his trench coat engulfing his lanky frame, hair mussed from his recent fight -- even _then_ he looked positively _righteous_. He was like an animal, feral and ferocious, dark determination staining his features, stoic expression, breathtaking eyes.

He was challenging the demon, cutting him down with a single look.

"Oh, you mustn't look so dour. The Winchesters sent me."

Castiel coughed up blood, his arms shaking, his eyes icy.

"Who are you?" If it were even possible, his voice was two notches lower; gruff, ragged, difficult to differentiate from the sound of steel scratching against gravel.

"Crowley. And _before_ you get your panties in a twist," the demon added, catching the tensing of shoulders, the tick of agitation that lit behind the angel's eyes, marks of recognition, he said, "I'm about as buggered as you and your lot, and you would be doing yourself a great disservice by burning me out of this body before we've even had time for the afternoon tea."

The sword twisted, twirled, cut through the air with ease, slicing particles and splitting molecules, aerodynamically superior to any invention of man. Crowley watched Castiel rise up a bit taller, soaked in the sight of blisters and welts and burn marks etched into the angel's skin, and then let his gaze follow the angel's steady ascent.

"That'a fellow," he remarked when Castiel straightened his spine and curved his posture in a manner about as human as the Winchesters were 'normal'. "Come on. Dust yourself off. We haven't got all day."

Castiel leveled his gaze at him.

"What? _What?_ " Crowley glanced behind him, down at his dress shoes, patted out his suit jacket, fingers gripping and fitful and touching.

"The sword," Castiel intoned, the wind catching his body, the edges of his trench coat flapping against the raised skin of his newly acquired scar.

"Oh, yes, it's a lovely artifact, isn't it? Not many of these in existence, though they keep popping up more and more with the end drawing nigh, and what have you."

" _Give me_ the sword," the angel clarified, taking a step forward. His body ached, but he sucked it up, pushed the pain away into another corner of his mind. He could deal with that later. Right now, he had a demon he didn't trust not three feet away, waving around a sword capable of killing him.

Crowley leaned back, his eyes wide, his lips quirking into a smirk.

"I need some sort of recompense for all the trouble you and your suicidal mission has put me through. Do you realize how hard it is to track down an angel who has sigil'd himself away to the farthest reaches of existence? _Hard_ , I tell you. Not to mention time consuming and--"

Castiel took another step forward, extended his hand to set his palm along the demon's forehead and burn him away. Crowley fumbled the weapon held loosely in his grasp and took a stumbling step back.

" _Hey_ , big boy, what have I said about keeping your hands to yourself?"

Crowley waved the sword in front of his face in tandem with the quiet _ah-ah_ that spilled between his lips.

"Look, _angel_ ," he said the term as if it were an endearment, "we're in the same boat here. Your Daddy doesn't care if my daddy buggers the whole bloody world. I've got no reason to lie to you, and I've got even less of a reason to try and _attack_ you. So fold your wings and cool your jets, and let me take you back to those two incompetent imbeciles who've missed your smiling face so bloody much."

Castiel couldn't sense an untruth in the demon, but his gaze still fell to the sword, and after a few moments and a very unamused groan, Crowley relinquished his hold on the weapon.

"Fine. _Fine_." He tossed the sword the angel's way, and Castiel caught it with ease, flipping it once in one hand before tucking it away in the folds of his trench coat.

"Feel better now, do we?"

"Yes," Cas said simply, then stepped closer to the demon. He was too drained to be able to transport himself on his own, so he would have to rely on the strength (and the word) of this demon to get him back to Sam and Dean.

Crowley shuddered as Castiel drew near, a wave of grace washing over him like the onset of a sickness.

Angels. He _hated_ angels.

"Hold on to papa," he said mockingly, then wrapped an arm around Castiel's waist and spirited both of them away with a single thought.

 

~*~*~*~  
THE END  
~*~*~*~

  
 


End file.
